Like Father, Like Son
by ColHogan
Summary: Companion piece to:From The Depths of My Soul. Hogan's parents suffer not knowing the whereabouts of their first-born son after he's shot down over Germany, and the similarity between what happened to his father in WW1 and Hogan in WW2.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own Hogan's Heroes or it's characters. They are the property of CBS and Ryscher Entertainment. **

*****This is a companion piece to From The Depths of My Soul. It is suggested that you read From The Depths of My Soul first, but is not necessary. I also want to express my thanks to Jennaya for her contribution and help with this chapter.*****

**Like Father, Like Son**

**Chapter 1-A Mother's Nightmare**

Sandra Hogan slowly sank into her living room chair, her hand shaking as she held the telegram. She could not believe it was happening again, but there it was, in black and white. Her eyes filled with tears as she reread the telegram from the US Army:

'**Dear General and Mrs. Hogan**

'**The Secretary of War desires me to express his deep regret that your son, Colonel Robert Edward Hogan, has been reported missing in action since the nineteenth of July, 1941, over Germany. If further details or other information are received, you will be promptly notified.'**

Sandra suddenly felt something blurring her vision, and then rolling down her face before she realized they were tears. This couldn't be happening again, could it? First it had been her husband in World War 1, and now a repeat of same in World War 2 involving her first born son. But with this war, there was one huge difference between then and now that caused her more fear than during the first war, and that was that anti-Semitism was rampant in Germany because of Adolph Hitler. And from what she was able to understand from talks with her husband, her son's life depended on who captured him if he had been shot down, depending of course _if _he had miraculously survived being shot down.

Her husband explained to her that if the civilians had captured Robert and discovered he was Jewish, he could be killed instantly or turned over to the Gestapo; if the Gestapo captured him outright, he would more than likely be shot for being Jewish, or after he had been tortured for information because he was a bomber crew commander and then executed. But if the Luftwaffe captured him, there was a good chance he might be alive. There was no way of knowing which at this point and it broke Sandra's heart that her son was somewhere in Germany, and his fate was in the hands of the enemy. It was too much to bear. Folding the letter she placed it back in its envelope and stuffed the envelope in the pocket of her apron. She wiped her face with the palms of her hands as she slowly got to her feet. She knew her husband, a retired General, had been on the phone for hours calling all of his contacts in the military, calling in all owed favors attempting to get some information on his son. Unfortunately, there was no information to be obtained from anywhere. The best he could get from one source was a 'promise' to get back to him the moment they heard anything. In the final analysis, the General was forced to tell his wife all they could do was wait and pray. And pray they both did on a daily basis; both privately in their own home, in the synagogue, and even in the Catholic church.

The first thing she and her husband did was notify their other children about Hogan's status. Each of them promising to come home as quickly as possible to be there for their parents at this time of uncertainty and do whatever they could to make things easier for their parents and to help get answers about their eldest brother.

Hours turned into days; days into weeks, and weeks into months and still no word on her son. Sandra Hogan was rapidly reaching the end of her rope. Having her children and grandchildren around did ease her fears somewhat, but she was still terrified, fearful, and worried. She knew her husband was doing the best he could to try and locate the whereabouts of their son, but with his declining health since returning home from his confinement in a POW camp, two mild heart attacks, and having just recovered from the flu, he was not in the best of health. In fact, the added stress of not knowing the whereabouts of their son wasn't helping his heart. She worried that the added stress would end up killing him.

So she made sure she had her husband take periodic breaks to lay down and rest while she and her children took turns making phone calls, sometimes even to the same people the General had called only days before. Sandra didn't care how tired these people got to hearing from them, this was her son who was missing and the not knowing was, to her, the worst. She began begging, pleading and sobbing over the phone for somebody in the US Army to find her son or at least his body were he dead. She had never begged anybody for anything in her entire life, but this wasn't just anything….this was her first born; her baby.

She vividly recalled what it was like when her husband was missing-in-action for months after he'd been shot down in the first war. She had barely been able to hold it together, but somehow managed to for the sake of the children. She couldn't permit herself to fall apart in front of them. But when she was sure they weren't watching or at night when she went to bed, she cried until she had no more tears to shed. She had felt so helpless during that time. The love of her life was missing in a foreign country, possibly injured or maybe even dead, and there was nothing she could do about it. She remembered the day she'd received the notification, a telegram. When the courier arrived, she nearly crumbled with fear of what the message contained. Her hands shaking so badly opening the envelope was a chore in itself, then the words missing-in-action jumped off the page. As horrible as they were, she breathed a sigh of relief they weren't killed-in-action. Fear gripped her heart, was her beloved Robert lying in a field somewhere dying, or was he locked up in a Prisoner-of-War camp? Was he injured or being tortured for information given his rank and responsibilities? As a military wife she knew the dangers, but that only made it worse. Because she knew what the enemy did to captured soldiers. She knew the stories, had witnessed the torn lives of men who had returned home after war. She knew firsthand what most civilians would never know that in itself was enough to paralyze her. How would Robert be when he returned home? Would he return home?

Once she knew her husband was alive, the waiting for the war to end became an agonizing daily challenge. Just because he was in a Prisoner-of-War camp didn't mean Robert would come home alive. Some of the camps were decent, but others weren't so good. Her imagination ran wild at night. On top of keeping things together in front of the children, she struggled against thinking about what her life would be like were she to lose the man she loved. Each day their eldest son looked more like his father and their mannerisms were the same. She knew raising little Robert would be a challenge keeping him channeled with all of that energy, independence, and charisma wouldn't be easy without her husband's help. Then her heart broke again with worry of what it was doing to her love being locked up. And now she had the same fears again for her son. She didn't know what she would do if she lost her first born. She couldn't lose her baby. But as with her husband at the time, it was the not knowing that was killing her.

It was now nearly two months with no information. During the daytime she at least had the housework and other things to try and occupy her mind with. However, the worst time was still at night when things were quiet and there was nothing to occupy her mind with except worry and fear of what he might be going through, not that these were not present during the day. For many nights both she and her husband got very little sleep; a few hours at best. But despite her concerns for her son, she had to make sure her husband got as much rest as possible. The doctors had warned her after her husband's heart attacks that too much stress could possibly be fatal as his heart was no longer as strong as it had once been combined with his subsequent illnesses. And despite what he was trying to do to find their son, she couldn't afford to lose the love of her life, Robert Michael Hogan.

Each night as she tried dreaming about the war being over and all her children safe and back home, the dream quickly became a nightmare. And tonight would be no different.

As she lay in bed listening to her husband's gentle breathing, Sandra, still awake despite being exhausted from another day of phone calls, was unable to sleep. Careful so as not to awaken her sleeping husband, she eased out of bed, putting on her slippers and grabbing her robe, quietly left the bedroom and headed downstairs into the living room where she exhaled deeply as she slowly walked around the living room until she found herself standing in front of the fireplace looking at the collection of family photos. Picking one up, she examined it in the shaft of moonlight coming through the large windows. It was a photo of her son in his dress uniform shortly after receiving his promotion to Colonel. She sat down slowly on the sofa never taking her eyes off the photo. She ran a forefinger over the outline of her son's face before crushing the photo against her body as the sobs began wracking her entire body.

"Where are you, my sweetheart? Are you even alive?" she said looking at the smiling face in the photo. Then, she raised her eyes to the heavens. "It isn't fair having to go through this twice! Please G-d, protect my son and keep him safe. Please let us know where he is and if he's alive. Please don't take him away from us." So absorbed in her grief and anger was she that she didn't feel a pair of hands gently grip her shoulders or a pair of lips gently kiss her cheek.

After a moment, she looked around to see her husband standing behind her. "Why are you up?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You need to get your rest. I'm all right."

The General squeezed her shoulders. "I felt you get up and heard you leave the room," he said. "We will find Rob," he assured her. "I don't care what we have to do or who we have to call, but we will find him. But you remember how long it took before you knew what happened to me after I was missing-in-action. It was nearly four months before you knew anything. You must be prepared for it to take that long or longer."

"I know," she answered gazing at her son's photo again with all the love in her heart. "But Robbie has the extra burden of being Jewish. He could be easily killed just for that if the wrong people find him."

"But he won't be," General Hogan assured his wife as he sat down beside her on the sofa. Taking the framed photo from her, he studied the face looking back at him. "Rob is very resourceful and strong. He can survive anything thrown at him. You'll see. He will persevere in the face of the enemy." He then put the framed photo on the coffee table and held his sobbing wife close hoping he hadn't just lied to her. "God will keep him safe," he added.


	2. Chapter 2A Father's Memories

**Chapter 2-A Father's Memories**

It had now been nearly three-and-a-half months without any word on the status of their son, and retired General Hogan was feeling the pressure of not getting answers. Also, he knew his health was failing in the last month. The stress of the situation had been getting to him. The discomfort in his chest was uncomfortable today but bearable. And he made sure to keep it hidden from Sandra because she would only worry about him and right now all their attention had to be focused on locating their son. Nothing was more important. But as he wasn't feeling well at the moment, he decided to lie down and rest for awhile; but found himself unable to sleep.

But even his rest was not peaceful, for it was filled with memories; unwanted memories of things better left in the past. As the commander of a bomber crew who refused to divulge any information to his captors, he was considered valuable as a source of information about the Allies. The permanent pain in his leg was courtesy of the Germans when he was originally captured as the bone in his right leg had been broken in several places and had originally gone untreated and had not healed properly despite several surgeries since then, leaving him with a permanent limp. But at least he hadn't been tortured, starved or beaten as other prisoners in other camps had been. For the most part he figured he had been one of the lucky ones.

After a period of time, he had been assigned to Luft Stalag 5B in Villingen, Germany, and was appointed the Senior POW officer as he was the highest ranking officer there among the Allies. His second-in-command, at least for awhile anyway, was Naval Lieutenant Isaacs.(1) But after Isaacs had escaped, he was the sole representative of his fellow prisoners. And from the moment he had been assigned to Stalag 5B, Hogan had the respect and admiration of his fellow prisoners.

Things weren't as bad in Villingen as they were in other camps, and at least here the American officers were treated better than the British, French, Belgian, and Russian prisoners. He soon discovered overall there were thirty American officers and about one hundred twenty Russian officers incarcerated in camp. But the Germans in charge had a wide range of amenities for the POWs.

Suddenly the General bolted upright in bed, sweat rolling down his face. He heaved a deep breath as he ran his hands down his face nervously. He realized he must have fallen asleep because instead of himself, he saw his son, and instead of things being not so bad, things were terrible and the Kommandant was sadistic and cruel because his son was Jewish. _It was just a dream, _he told himself. _Just a dream. _He had no idea who the Kommandant was now at Villingen, or even if the camp was still in use at this time. But regardless, what frightened and terrified him the most was that his son might have been captured by the Gestapo who, the minute they discovered he was Jewish, would take him into custody and either kill him outright, or torture him to death while trying to obtain any or all information they could out of him regarding Allied strategies and then execute him; or that as a Jew, he would end up in a labor camp and worked to death. He couldn't bear the thought of what would become of his son if that were to happen. He had even heard that in some circumstances, if German citizens captured an Allied soldier and he was Jewish, they would either kill him themselves or turn him over to the Gestapo. He slowly swung his legs off the bed and rested his feet on the floor, a hand massaging his chest. The discomfort wasn't bad now and seemed to be easing a bit.

Getting to his feet, the General walked over to the bedroom window and stood in front of it looking down into the backyard. _Where are you, Robbie? Are you alive? _

Letting out a deep breath, the General thought about his time at Villingen. It had been a vacation as opposed to the camp he had been transferred to a few months later. This new camp was located in northern Germany and the Kommandant, Colonel Adlar Jahnke,(2) was said to be sadistic and cruel, and his stay there took a lot out of him. It was also rumored that he had a high mortality rate amongst his prisoners. So far Hogan hadn't been broken by the Germans, but Jahnke was determined to get all information from the American on the Allies and to break him at any cost. Hogan was never given a reason or explanation for the transfer; he was just told one day by the Kommandant at Villingen he was being transferred. Besides the permanent limp of his right leg, he remembered the endless interrogations and Jahnke's punishment for refusing to answer questions about the Allied defenses resulting in him contracting a severe case of pneumonia when the German Colonel had him chained to a pole embedded in the ground in a pouring rainstorm for several hours. He knew he would have died days later, but some of his fellow prisoners had sneaked medicine from the infirmary before Jahnke had inventory taken as he kept a tight rein on everything. For some reason the General kept seeing his son enduring that punishment instead of him and it frightened him.

Also, the prisoners were forced to eat gruel and day old cabbage as the money allotted for the maintenance of the camp was mostly spent on luxuries for Jahnke. And although he was the Senior POW officer there, and despite his best effort to get better food for the prisoners, he sadly had to watch dozens of men in camp die of starvation and illness as Jahnke wasn't concerned. He shuddered as he recalled the thirty days he spent in the cooler surviving on water and moldy bread because he refused to disclose the name of the man in formation during roll call who made a disparaging remark about the Kommandant. _Everybody has a breaking point, _he told himself, _even Rob. I know you're a strong young man_ _who can tolerate a lot from people, son, but how much could you withstand from someone like Jahnke before they break you? How much before you're only a shell of the young man who left us and joined the military? _

"Daddy?" a young voice said from behind him startling him out of his thoughts. Turning, the General saw his youngest daughter, Sarah, standing in the doorway of the bedroom. He smiled at her affectionately.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

Slowly the young woman entered the room until she stood toe-to-toe with her father, and pressed up against him with her arms wrapped around him, hugging him close. He held her in his own strong arms and kissed the top of her head.

"Daddy, do you think Robbie is alive?" she asked, worried; the side of her face pressed against her father's chest.

"Yes, I do, honey. Until I have proof to the contrary, I have to believe he is. He's a strong young man and can withstand quite a lot. He'll find a way to survive." _Please God, don't let me have just lied to my daughter. _Seeing a movement out of the corner of his eye, the General looked up and saw John Robert and his sister Katherine standing in the doorway watching. He allowed a small smile to appear on his face and waved them over to him. "Where's your mom?" he asked.

"She and Michael Thomas are still making phone calls." There was a pause as John Robert's face took on a grim look. "Dad, we heard what you told Sarah. Do you _really_ believe Rob is still alive?"

"I have to believe he is, son. Your brother is very resourceful. If he can find a way to survive he will no matter what the Nazis do to him."

"But what about when the war ends, daddy," Katherine said. "What kind of man will Robbie be? He might not be the same brother he was before he joined the military. Also, he's Jewish. You know better than anybody what the Nazis will do to him once they find that out. They'll probably kill him."

The General was about to open his mouth to reply when they all heard a shriek from below. Everybody raced out of the upstairs bedroom and down the stairs where they found Sandra Hogan holding what appeared to be a telegram in her hands and a smile on her face while tears ran down her cheeks. Her son was reading over her shoulder with a wide smile as well. Sandra was oblivious to the others approaching her while Michael looked up instantly.

"Rob's alive!" he shouted joyfully. "He's really alive!"

Everybody started talking at once before the General asked for quiet as he took the telegram from his wife's fingers and read it aloud. "It's from the Pentagon," he began. He then read the contents of the telegram aloud. When he had finished, he looked around at all the smiling, jubilant faces and finally at the tear-stained face of his wife as he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close as she lay her head on his shoulder.

"But it doesn't say if he's all right," Sarah commented.

"I have to believe he is." The General heaved a sigh of relief and closed his eyes momentarily. _Thank you, God, for protecting my boy._ Then with a contented sigh, he gazed at the telegram in his shaking hand.

'_**Report just received through the International Red**_ _**Cross states that your son, Colonel Robert Edward Hogan, is a POW of the German Government. A letter of information will follow from the Provost Marshal General.'**_

* * *

(1)See From The Depths of My Soul for information on Naval Lieutenant Isaacs.

(2) Colonel Adlar Jahnke was an OC I made up for purposes of this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3Tragedy

**Chapter 3-Tragedy**

It had been exactly one year ago that the son of retired Brigadier General Robert Hogan had been incarcerated in Luft Stalag 13. According to his letters which were heavily censored by the Germans, his parents, with a bit of trouble, were able to piece together that their son was doing well and in fairly good health. He also indicated he was the Senior POW officer in Luft Stalag 13 as he was the highest ranking Allied officer in the entire camp. The General smirked as his son seemed to be following in his footsteps in every way. But it was a smirk tempered with great fear and terror.

Why was his son, probably the highest-ranking Allied officer in Germany, incarcerated in a camp meant for non-commissioned officers only? Why was he not in an Oflag which was a camp for men befitting his son's rank? To him the answer was one of two terrifying possibilities: one, the Nazis were doing their best to humiliate and degrade his son, or two, his son, after endless torture and numerous interrogations, had been broken by the Nazis. He massaged his forehead. When the war ended, what kind of man would be returning home? How different would his eldest be from the young man who joined the military? Or would he be no more than an empty shell of his former self, devoid of all life? Worse yet, would he even return home? Added to that was that his son was Jewish, and could be taken out of camp at any time by the Gestapo or the SS, or even transferred to a labor camp without advance notice. The General let out a deep breath. He had kept this information from his wife and the rest of the family because they had already been through so much that he didn't believe they could handle any more worry, terror and fear. They deserved some peace for awhile. But it was the stress of keeping this information to himself for months that on this day caused pain in his chest.

Letting out a deep breath, he massaged his chest as the pain became more intense. Alone in the living room, the General staggered but maintained his balance as the pain in his chest radiated down his left arm; he felt worse than he'd ever felt before whenever the discomfort occurred. Knowing his wife was outside, he suddenly grabbed his arm and held it against his side, and gritted his teeth as he now had difficulty breathing. If he could just get his wife's attention without frightening her, he believed things would be okay. He knew he was having a heart attack, and quickly realized this was not a mild one, but a serious one. Beads of sweat started breaking out on his forehead and the nausea began. Then, his world suddenly turned black as he sagged against the table and collapsed onto the floor clutching his chest, in the process overturning the table and sending the lamp crashing onto the floor where it shattered.

* * *

Colonel Robert Hogan was relaxing on his back on his upper bunk in Stalag 13 reading a paperback book he had borrowed from Newkirk. He and his men didn't often have times like this when there were no missions from London, no work details, and the pouring rain made it impossible for anybody to venture outside. So, all the prisoners were confined to their respective barracks, bored, looking for things with which to occupy themselves. So, at least in barracks two, some of the men were writing letters to their families, some were napping, while Newkirk managed to lure Carter, Kinch and LeBeau into a game of gin rummy. Hogan, not having masochistic tendencies, politely refused to join in the card game and instead retired to his private quarters to resume reading the paperback the Englander had loaned him a few days ago. That was when it happened.

Hogan had just flipped the page over when a sudden chill permeated his body; almost as if someone had walked across his grave. The feeling was so intense that the Colonel put down his book and looked around his room as if he expected to see something or someone. When he saw and heard nothing, he quickly jumped down from the upper bunk, hurried to the door and pulling it open, looked out into the common room, his eyes taking in everything. None of the men noticed him and everything seemed fine so Hogan quietly closed the door and with narrowed eyes, wrapped his arms around himself as he tried to figure out what was so terribly wrong that caused the sudden chill he felt.

* * *

Sandra Hogan paced back and forth in the waiting area of the local hospital while fingering the Star-of-David pendant that hung around her neck; tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't shake the image that had greeted her when she had run back inside after hearing the sound of something breaking and found her husband collapsed in a semi-fetal position on the floor clutching his chest and having difficulty breathing and barely alive. After having called for an ambulance, she accompanied her husband to the hospital where he was rushed into an examination room. She knew her husband was in very bad shape the moment she had found him on the living room floor and that things didn't seem to improve while en-route to the hospital. She had held her husband's hand throughout the ride to the hospital all the while begging him to hang on and not to leave her and the children because they all loved him so much, they needed him in their lives, and it wasn't time for him to go. All the General could manage through his pain in the ambulance was to look at his wife with all the love in the world showing through his eyes, and a weak smile on his face. "I love you…always…" he struggled to get the words out weakly.

_He has to live! He has to! You can't take him away now! _She inwardly said looking up at the heavens. She had been reciting the recovery prayer repeatedly since she had found her husband on the floor. She stopped pacing when she heard the sound of shoes approaching on the tiled floor and turned to see a young, blond-haired man in a white coat wearing glasses approaching her, a grim look on his face.

"Mrs. Hogan?" he asked now standing directly in front of the woman. "I'm Doctor Pearsall. I examined your husband when he was brought in."

"Please," she pleaded. "Tell me my husband will be all right." She brushed at the tears on her face.

The doctor sighed wearily with a grim look on his face. "Mrs. Hogan, I'm afraid your husband is in a coma…."

Sandra didn't hear the rest of his words as she collapsed onto one of the chairs near a plate glass window. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably. She barely recalled a gentle hand on her shoulder or someone speaking to her. After awhile, she looked up and saw Doctor Pearsall watching her with concerned eyes.

"What?" she asked in a voice she didn't recognize as coming from her own lips.

"You must prepare yourself for any eventuality at this point. His condition is extremely grave. I am so, so sorry."

Sandra let out a deep breath, swallowed hard, and slowly nodded. "Can…can I sit with him?"

The doctor smiled grimly. "Of course you can. Come, I'll escort you to his room."

From that moment on, Sandra refused to leave her husband's side. She gripped his hand tightly in hers and repeated her recovery prayer knowing it worked before, believing it would work again. She couldn't bear living without her beloved Robert. But a day later, her world splintered and came crashing down around her. It happened when she awoke after falling asleep with her head resting on her folded arms on the edge of the bed. Once she had erased the remnants of sleep from her eyes, she reached out and gripped one of her husband's hands only to discover it was cool to the touch; also, he didn't appear to be breathing. Panicking, Sandra rushed from her husband's room screaming for the doctor. Seconds later, Dr. Pearsall ran into her husband's room with a nurse while ordering another nurse to keep Mrs. Hogan outside.

After a few minutes, a grim-faced doctor emerged from the room and faced the woman who was leaning against the nurse who was gently restraining her. The doctor sighed. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hogan, but your husband passed away without regaining consciousness. I am so sorry for your loss."

There was a sudden wail of grief from Sandra as she collapsed into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and was unaware of being led to a nearby chair and sitting down, or of a hand gently on her trembling shoulder. "If it's any comfort, Mrs. Hogan, he suffered no pain in the end," said a faint voice.

"Is it possible I could see him?" she whispered looking up with red, wet eyes.

"Of course." They both got to their feet and Sandra allowed herself to be led back into her husband's room where Robert's body still lay in the bed but now covered with a sheet which had been pulled up over his head. The nurse still there turned and her eyes shifted from the woman to the doctor.

"It's all right, nurse. This is General Hogan's wife." The nurse simply nodded and immediately left the room. Pearsall gazed at Sandra. "Take as much time as you need. I'll be right outside if you need me." He quietly walked out of the room leaving the new widow alone.

Sandra took a deep breath and approached the bed where she hesitantly pulled back the sheet covering her husband's body enabling her to look into his face while trying to compose herself. She reached out and clutched one of his hands and pressed it against her chest tightly. "I loved you the first time I saw you, my love; and not even death can change that love. I look forward to the day we can be together again. Until then, my love, I will have to be content knowing you are no longer suffering from poor health. So, until we see each other again…" she leaned forward and pressed her lips against her husband's. She then stood erect and let out a deep breath.

* * *

Sandra Hogan finally had a few minutes to herself to sit down and breath. She had made the phone calls to all of her children except one and to Rob's friends and family members who were still alive as well as her own and she was worn out completely. Everyone would be coming as soon-as-possible. She also knew that even though Rob was retired from the military, they would still take care of the funeral and burial in Arlington National Cemetery. Letting out a deep breath as she pulled out a sheet of writing paper and an envelope from her late husband's desk, she knew the most difficult task lay ahead of her, especially since her husband had only a week earlier written and mailed a letter to their son at Stalag 13. Her eyes glistened as she picked up her pen and began to write:

_**'****My Dearest Son**__,_

_**I'**__**m so sorry to have to tell you this by mail, but your father passed away a day after suffering what the doctors said was a massive heart attack…'**_

**The End**


End file.
